


The hoard

by ylc



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Jaskier is bad at feelings, Jealousy, Lack of Communication, M/M, Pining, Some Romance, Some angst, not human!Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23470390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylc/pseuds/ylc
Summary: The finding of the hoard is a sacred rite of passage all young dragons must go through. Finding the one thing that pleases you the most in the whole wide world is not an easy task and it can take millenia to find it.When Jaskier met Geralt for the first time, he thought he had figured it out.But of course it couldn't be that simple.My contribution to the FTH auction 2020
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 98
Kudos: 543
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prim_the_Amazing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/gifts).



> This is my second contribution to the Fandom Trumps Hate auction. A million thanks to Prim_the_Amazing for their generous donation :)  
> The prompt was Inhuman!Jaskier of any flavour-- And then he runs into a terrifying Witcher who is far too kind to kill a monster that isn’t actually hurting anyone. I might have strayed a bit (the concept is there, I think, but I’m not sure if this is what they had in mind) but hopefully it’s enjoyable?  
> It’s be a three chapters piece so, well. Enjoy!

There’s a man sitting on the far side of the tavern, almost hidden by the shadows, trying to look inconspicuous and failing miserably: he sticks out like a sore thumb among the tavern’s much more average patrons.

Jaskier stares at him for a beat, frowning a little. The man is impossible not to notice, but that’s not what has him staring. He feels-- _familiar_ , somehow, as if they have known each other for centuries. There’s a tug in his chest, urging him forward, telling him this is it.

 _Oh,_ he thinks, watching the man. _There you are._

So he approaches him without a hint of hesitation, his blood singing in his veins. _I found you, I found you,_ it seems to chant on an endless loop. Jaskier wants to laugh, happiness bubbling inside, his joy almost impossible to contain.

He’s found it. After almost five decades of searching, he’s found it. Well, not quite, he supposes, but he’s so close now, he can feel it in his very bones.

 _His hoard._ The one thing that will make him happy above it all, the thing that will please him the most in whole world: this man is the key to it, this man will lead him to it. This man is what (who) he’s been looking for.

He can hardly wait.

* * *

**_Eighty years ago_ **

Jaskier is barely over his first century when he hears it.

Except _hearing_ might not be the appropriate term, but it’s the one his mother uses when he describes the confusing feeling inside him. There’s something out there _calling_ for him, something urging him to abandon the lovely warm nest he lives in and go looking for it.

 _The call of the hoard,_ his mother says.

The finding of the hoard is a rite of passage every young dragon must go through. It can take millenias for a dragon to find the right thing to hoard and they change their minds about it often when they’re young: finding the one thing that pleases you the most in the whole wide world is not an easy feat and it’s an endeavour not to be taken lightly. It’s not something young cubs like Jaskier should be worrying about and he’s not, not really, except--

Deep in his bones, he feels something out there is calling for him. It’s been calling for him for a long time, he realizes, but he had been too young to pay it much mind and until lately, it was nothing but a murmur in the back of his head. It’s getting louder though, much louder and he very much doubts he can keep on ignoring it.

But his mother says he’s too young to go looking for it. Dragon cubs don’t leave the nest until they’re two or three centuries old at the very least, once they’ve learned to fend for themselves. Jaskier is not very good at fighting or hunting and his mother fears that if he leaves now he won’t survive.

Even if he hears the call, he knows there’s no guarantee he’ll find it easily. Even if he does find it, there’s no guarantee he’ll be able to keep it safe and protected: he’s young and weak and _not ready_ , but--

He knows it’s out there. And he doesn’t know how much longer he can wait before the tug in his chest becomes painful, before the need to find it overrides every other survival instinct.

A dragon’s hoard is a part of a dragon and without it, no dragon is complete. He’s young and he has time to find it and at the same time--

_It’s calling for him._

And Jaskier would be a fool not to answer the call.

* * *

**_Present day_ **

_A Witcher_ , Jaskier thinks as he follows Geralt out of the inn, still reeling with the revelation that he’s finally found the key to his precious hoard. Not all hoards _require_ a key, but it figures Jaskier’s does. Just another uncommon trait to add to it: not only did it call for him, but it also needs a key.

He does not know how, but he does know the Witcher _is the key_ and so he’d be a fool to let him go now.

Geralt doesn’t make it easy to follow, though. 

And Jaskier understands, at least partially. Even when he first left his nest fifty years ago and Witchers were still regarded with certain steem, they weren’t _liked,_ not exactly. Humans have always feared what they can’t understand and those who don’t subscribe to their expectations bear the worst of the burden.

He’s heard of this particular Witcher’s reputation, of course, and he also knows he’s in no real danger. It’s not only that he knows that the man is important to him and so it’s literally _impossible_ for him to fear him, it’s also that he doesn’t seem all that dangerous: those tales of what happened at Blaviken are no doubt exaggerated. And even if they aren’t-- well, Jaskier might still be a cub and he might not be too much of a fighter, but he’s still a dragon and he’s fought a Witcher once before and that one was much bulkier and sturdier, so he very much doubts this one will pose any real threat.

He hopes it won’t come to it, though. He does not want to fight this Witcher, he can not risk hurting him. He’s important, _he must be protected_ and Jaskier would be a poor dragon if he couldn’t manage something as simple as not hurting his key.

The Witcher hits him and Jaskier nearly loses it, a mighty growl attempting to escape him. But if he growls, the Witcher will probably see through his glamour and he can’t have that. Someday he’ll have to show his real form, he thinks, but he feels like clinging to this particular secret for now.

So he makes a face, unhappy and continues walking after the man. He’s in no real pain, but he imagines a real human with his fragile appearance _would be_ and so he does his best to pretend. Then of course the so-called-devil they’re looking for appears and there’s no need to pretend anymore.

He could, theoretically, get them out of this little mess they’ve walked into. The devil doesn’t look very tasty though and he seems a little scared, which makes Jaskier reluctant to attack him. Also, he’s a little curious about what the Witcher will do once he wakes up and finds they’ve been “captured”, so he allows himself to be held down by the devil and the pair of elves that come to help him.

 _Curiosity killed the cat,_ Jaskier thinks, as the elves drag him along. 

Oh well. He’s sure it’s nothing he can’t handle.

* * *

Geralt’s approach to their predicament is-- unusual, to say at least. When the Witcher wakes up to find himself tied down and held prisoner, he tries to _bargain_ with their captors, instead of trying to break free and killing them all. He tries to reason with them and when that fails, he tries to plead and, even more curiously, he does not ask for his life to be spared, but for _Jaskier’s_.

Curious and curiouser.

The tale of Blaviken is most definitely a lie: this man is as far from a monster as they come. Jaskier knows enough humans by now to know how selfish and self centered they can be, but Geralt concerns himself with others’ well being rather than his own. He even seems concerned about the fate of the elves, even after how nasty they’re being!

Jaskier isn’t feeling so charitable himself. In fact, if that elf kicks him one more time, she’s going to be missing a leg very soon.

He listens to Geralt’s conversation with the Elf King, taking notice of his _kindness._ Jaskier very much doubts anyone has been kind to the Witcher in a very long time, but he has no qualms on being kind himself. He’s beginning to see that the Witcher’s earlier attempts to scare him off were rather on his benefit: he probably thought he was being all noble by trying to discourage the foolish human from following him.

 _Oh,_ Jaskier thinks, delighted. To what wonderful hoard will this man lead him to?

Geralt keeps trying to strike a bargain and Jaskier is getting bored. As his parents feared, he’s much too young to be traveling alone and the thing is, he’s a little immature. He has little to none impulse control and as every other young _cocky_ dragon, he’s yet to learn the value of patience.

But that would break his facade, so better to wait. He closes his eyes, puzzling over the sheer oddity of his newfound key. He’s met Witchers before and went as far as fighting one, but those were very different. The last one in particular could not hope to hold a candle to the one currently tied against his back.

He must admit he’s very much looking forward to discovering his hoard by Geralt’s side.

* * *

_**Fifty years ago.** _

Humans have the misconception that dragons hoard only gold and treasure, when in truth a hoard can be made of all sort of things: gold, yes and jewels too but also seemingly cheap trinkets, with no monetary value.

Because dragons hoard whatever they like best. 

But humans never learn and so they’re all too happy to go hunting for dragons, hoping to seize their hoards and make themselves rich. Humans are greedy, cruel creatures and Jaskier doesn’t think he likes them very much, but needs must.

On this particular morning, Jaskier is sitting in an inn, minding his own business, trying to figure out where to head up next when he hears a group of humans discussing a frankly _terrible_ plan. Terrible because it’s cruel and unfair and _hurtful,_ not because it’s a bad plan.

Apparently, the men have caught wind of a rumor of a dragon nesting in a mountain nearby. The humans want the hoard, naturally, but are too cowardly to go after the dragon themselves and so they had sent note for a Witcher who happened to be passing by just a couple of towns away, asking for his help to kill the dragon.

_And the Witcher had agreed._

Jaskier supposes he can forgive the humans for their foolishness and their greed. Witchers however are supposed to be educated on the way of magical creatures and so they should know that a dragon nesting is a _defenseless dragon_ : a dragon only nests when they’re laying an egg and all their strength goes to the tedious and (as Jaskier understands it) _painful_ business of reproduction.

The dragon then will be an easy prey. 

And for what? For a treasure that probably doesn’t even exist? No, Jaskier doesn’t think so. Dragons are relatively simple creatures when it comes to organization and they have only two sacred rules, one of them being that if a fellow dragon needs help, those close by ought to come to their help. But even if he wasn’t bound to do so by their ancient laws, Jaskier would feel compelled to help: it’s just the decent thing to do, really.

He tries to reason with the Witcher, he really does. He intercepts him on his way towards the mountain and tries to plead his case. The man however does not care: he’s only interested in the gold that the villagers have paid him. He knows the dragon is no threat, he knows that he’s pretty much condemning an innocent creature to death for human greediness, but he does not care.

Jaskier doesn’t feel particularly bad about devouring him.

He does not like to hurt humans (or _variations_ of them), even when he knows they’d be happy to hurt him if they thought they could make it away with his (not yet existent) hoard. He does not like confrontation, not even when the humans are being unfair or rude to him.

But all dragons are kin and it’s his sacred duty to protect those he can.

So needs must.

* * *

_**Present day** _

Against all odds, the elves let them go.

Which is for the best, truly, because Jaskier doesn’t like hurting other creatures and even less so members of another dying race. Once upon a time, dragons and elves lived in peace and harmony or so the tales of old say: elves are much less interested on riches and so they had little interest on the dragons’ hoards.

Once upon a time, the whole Continent belonged to them. And look at them now.

He’s a little surprise when the Elf King offers them his lute as a parting gift and Geralt is just as surprised too, but he keeps his face devoid of any real emotion. As soon as they leave, the Witcher practically throws the lute in his direction, apparently deciding he has no use for it.

Jaskier doesn’t think much of it at first. He picked up playing the lute about a decade ago, figuring playing the part of a traveling bard was a decent cover. _He likes it,_ yes and it makes him happy enough and any other time he probably would have appreciated the gift a bit more but right now he’s a bit caught up on the knowledge that his hoard is so close and therefore he’s (reasonably, he thinks) distracted.

He did promise Geralt a song, though. Or well, at least a way to redeem himself in the eyes of the public. It’s clear to him Blaviken is a huge _lie,_ but to convince the rest of the world--

He makes idle talk as they walk down the mountain, mostly lost in his thoughts. He’s always been talkative: his parents mentioned him talking even in his sleep often enough when he was much younger. So he has no trouble carrying a conversation on his own, even if he’s not actually focusing on the words leaving his mouth or the clipped answers he’s getting from his companion.

He finds himself thinking of the Elf King and of all the work that awaits him and his people. Reproduction is tedious, painful and dangerous business for dragons, so it’s not uncommon for a pair to only have a couple of cubs if any. There never were too many of them and so when humans started killing them left and right, dragons figured their best bet was to go into hiding. A lot of them pose as humans, which is easy enough: a good glamour is practically undetectable. Elves however-- 

Well. He imagines it’ll be a tad trickier.

Geralt mentions the lute after Jaskier mentions the coin: he does not need it, but he suspects the Witcher might. He doesn’t seem terribly concerned though and so Jaskier resolves not to worry much either.

He starts playing the lute idly, singing to himself softly. It’s a silly little melody and it’ll need a lot of work, but--

 _Oh,_ he thinks suddenly, nearly dropping the lute as the revelation hits. 

That is it, that’s his hoard! He wants to laugh merrily, but he suspects that might be a little concerning and so he holds himself back, but he’s just so happy! It hasn’t even been a full day since he found his key and he’s already lead him to his hoard!

 _Stories,_ he thinks. But that’s not quite it: stories about a _certain_ _Witcher_ and his many heroics. Yes, that is it!

“That not how it happened,” Geralt tells him, serious and perhaps a tad annoyed, but Jaskier ignores him merrily. He might understand the elves’ plight, but they kicked him! He has every right to be as petty as he wants, thank you very much.

 _Yes, stories._ He thinks, continuing to strum the lute. _Songs of mighty heroics._

Ah, what a wonderful hoard they’ll make!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! I hope you’ll enjoy it!

“Songs do make for a wonderful hoard, don’t you agree dearest?”

Jaskier looks at his mother from the corner of his eyes, waiting for her assessment, feeling a tad nervous. He knew his father would be all praises at his newfound hoard, but he also knew his mother would need a little more convincing. Hoards are sacred, a personal choice for every dragon and so criticizing them is a bit frown upon, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.

“Hmm,” his mother replies plainly, reminding him a certain Witcher. Jaskier’s father huffs fondly, throwing a look in her direction, eyes big and pleading and she sighs. “It’s a fine hoard,” she agrees finally. “I just-- I don’t like the idea of you spending that much time with a Witcher.”

Ah, so she’s worried, not  _ disapproving.  _ Good, Jaskier can work with this. “Geralt is a good man.”

His mother scoffs. “Witchers are killing machines, Jaskier. They live to hunt creatures like us.”

Well, no, not technically. Although-- “Geralt wouldn’t. He’s--”

“Didn’t you hear about the elves, dearest? Or the griffins? Or the-- mermaids, was it?” his father intervenes in a sing song voice that has Jaskier’s mother rolling her eyes at him, but her expression in mostly fond, affectionate in fact.

Jaskier blushes a little. Maybe he had been waxing a little too poetically about Geralt’s most charming qualities, his endless compassion the easiest one to illustrate. His father gives him a knowing look, before turning his attention back to his mother.

“Hmm,” she says, with a shrug, aiming to sound disinterest, but it’s clear as water that she’s not convinced. “Nevertheless… be careful, cub.”

Jaskier pouts, wanting to protest. He’s not a cub, he’s a dragon with a hoard! A dragon with a proper hoard is considered a full grown up dragon by their laws, although he also imagines his mother will always think of him as her cub.

Well. He can live with that.

* * *

Jaskier has been traveling with Geralt for some time now, although he can’t exactly recall for how long. Dragons live long lives and the passing of time seems to lose meaning when you have at least a couple of millenia more to live.

In any case, he knows it’s been a while. In that time he’s managed to build a respectable hoard, although he has no idea when he’ll be satisfied with it. It’s not like it matters in any case: even if Geralt wasn’t an inexhaustible source of inspiration, Jaskier does enjoy spending time with him.

They part ways from time to time, the Witcher’s protests at Jaskier slowing him down do tire the young dragon from time to time and he decides to take a break before he bites the other man’s fingers off. As time passes though, Jaskier finds it easier to control such impulses and so he takes his companion’s many protests and complains in a stride, knowing he doesn’t really mean them most of the time: the thing is, Geralt is unused to company and from time to time he remembers  _ attachments  _ bring nothing but pain to people like him and so he tries to shake him off before something happens to him.

Jaskier would like to reassure him it won’t be case, seeing it’s very unlikely he’ll die anytime soon and he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself if needed, but he’s still reluctant to reveal his real nature: he doesn’t truly believe Geralt would hurt him but…

Well. Better safe than sorry.

Regardless, this last time he hadn’t meant to part ways with Geralt, not really, but when the Witcher informed him he was heading for Kaer Morhen to spend the winter (something he apparently did all the time, but Jaskier had failed to notice because never before had their paths crossed so close to winter) and refused to allow Jaskier to trail along, the dragon-turned-bard had no choice but to let him go. At first he had thought he’d stick to the big cities, continuing to expand his hoard while also spreading his songs across the Continent, but then he thought it’d be a good idea to pay a visit to his parents: no doubt they’d be worried about him and they would be thrilled to hear of his somewhat-recently found hoard.

And so here he is.

After he left, his parents had left their old nest, which was to be expected. Dragons only nest when laying an egg and then when raising a cub and with their cub gone, their parents were able to go back to their life pre-cubs. Considering his parents’ choices of hoard, moving into a human settling made some amount of sense, although Jaskier must admit it’s a bit odd to see them in human disguise at all times.

He knows better than to bother his mother at her garden, considering how protective of her hoard she is, so he sticks to his father’s side most of the time. His father is thrilled to have him back and even more so when Jaskier agrees to serve as model for his latest creations. Before he got a mate, his father had traveled the continent as a fabric merchant but after  _ settling down  _ he had discovered his love for fabrics went further than just collecting them, prefering to turn them into clothes. Something that most dragons  _ don’t need, _ naturally, but giving their particular circumstances, it’s most useful.

Generally speaking, dragons don’t share their hoard, but some find pleasure exactly on it: his father loves seeing people walking around in his creations, just as Jaskier thrives at hearing people singing his songs (even when they butcher them mercilessly)

“I really like this one,” Jaskier says, looking at his reflection on the mirror. “I really think gold is my color, don’t you?”

“No,” his father deadpans. “Red is your color.” Jaskier has to roll his eyes, because of course his father would get picky over stuff like that. Dragons are proud creatures and as a general rule, different varieties don’t mix. There is however one particular variety all dragons seem to  _ dislike _ and those are gold dragons. _ Interfering, duplicitous, scheming, know-it-all _ bastards the whole lot of them, apparently.

Jaskier is not entirely sure that’s true, never having meet one, but he’s not about to get into an argument with his father over that. “Yeah, but, I meant… this human body looks well in gold.” There. Better, right?

His father throws him an unimpressed look and Jaskier figures that’s a  _ no.  _ “You do look good,” his father says after a brief pause. “You also look better feed now. Do we have your Witcher friend to thank for that too?”

Jaskier considers this. “In a sense,” he says. “My singing gets me decent coin now.” He doesn’t need to eat as often as humans do, not really and if pressed, he’s more than capable of hunting for his own food but ever since he joined Geralt, he rarely lacks coin and the Witcher does the hunting for both of them.

Which is terribly considerate of him, actually. It makes Jaskier flush with pleasure whenever his Witcher decides to look after him, as if he needed it. That is, after all, a common courting practice between dragons: they can take care of themselves, but a good mate must be able to show they can look after their chosen partner too.

Not that Geralt is courting him, of course, nor does Jaskier wish for a true mate, but it’s nice all the same.

His father hums. “Well, that’s good,” he says with a soft smile. “I-- I understand you’re excited about having found your hoard son, but your mother is right. You need to be careful about your  _ friend _ .”

Jaskier is hard pressed not to roll his eyes. “Geralt wouldn’t hurt me.”

His father looks at him, a wistful expression on his face as he pushes a lock of hair away from Jaskier’s face. “Oh, cub. You understand so little of hurt. There are many ways someone can hurt you, a sword through your gut the less painful one.”

He turns around, going to fetch some other doublet he wants Jaskier to try out and the young dragon stares at him, frowning as he thinks of his father’s words.

What does that mean?

* * *

Jaskier goes back to the road as soon as the last of the snow melts. His parents let him go, urging him to be careful once more and Jaskier is hard pressed not to roll his eyes at them, thinking he won’t be coming back any time soon if they’re going to carry on like this.

He travels on his own for a long while, composing and singing and getting into all kind of mischief. In these last few years, he’s found he’s rather fond of human company of a  _ certain kind _ , which he also thinks it’s most odd. Sex is no fun business for dragons, most of them seeing it as a necessary evil, a duty to perform for their dying race so more cubs can be born. As it turns out, sex with humans is wildly different and much more pleasurable.

Jaskier has learnt to flirt a bit better in these years. He had been watching humans do it for a long time, trying to figure it out but with no real interest: he had thought it was something useful to learn to make his facade a little more believable, but other than that--

Now he does it a bit better and his efforts bear fruits most of the time. He’s always on the move, which discourages long-term arrangements, which seems to be a positive thing for some humans. He’s also a fast learner and eager to please, which his lovers inform him is a plus. He’s curious too, always willing to try anything new and he’s not particularly picky with the people he takes to bed: it’s all about the experience and the pleasure, nothing more and nothing less.

It’s nice, Jaskier thinks. And it pleases him, which had made him wonder if maybe he didn’t get his hoard wrong after all. It’s not uncommon for young cubs to get it wrong, so he had thought that was a possibility, but then he’d think of Geralt, silently brooding in the corner and the immediate pull he felt towards him and realized that no, he’s right: his songs are his hoard but this type of human company bring him happiness too.

Is it possible, he wonders, to love more than one thing at the time? Dragons love deeply and profoundly, committing themselves to what they love. Their hoard is their biggest treasure, something they’re willing to die and kill for. He thinks he does feel that way about his art, but his many lovers are usually just passing fancy: fun for a while but his short affairs are not worth fighting for, which is why he’s all too happy to move on when they end.

His travels take him to Cintra, to a small town close to the capital. He hears the rumors of the White Wolf being on a hunt close by and he perks up immediately, thrilled at the thought of seeing Geralt again: he’s been composing a lot, both tales based on what he’s seen with his own two eyes and tales build up on the scraps of information Geralt sometimes supplies. He’ll be happy to travel with him again; regardless of the lovely company he’s been finding over his travels, none of them quite compare to his muse, his dearest key.

And when a young page comes into the inn he’s staying in, looking for him with a message from Queen Calanthe herself, inviting him to play at Princess Pavetta’s bethroral fest--

Well. That’s just the cherry on top.

* * *

Humans, Jaskier has learned, find pleasure in closeness and intimacy. Dragons are generally solitary creatures, preferring their own company, taking pleasure in the care of their hoard. The only exception of course is when they find a mate: then they have no trouble being all over them at all times.

But Jaskier does like the humans’ easy intimacy. Dragons are monogamous by nature, but not in the way humans think of monogamy: humans obsession with sex makes them a little short sighted when it comes to relationships and they seem to interpret sexual monogamy as the only true way to show commitment.

Dragons have no such ideas. Sex is not something dragons generally engage into, at least not with each other, but in any case sexual monogamy is not a must between mated pairs. No, dragons are monogamous in the sense that once a dragon has handed their heart to someone, there’s no getting it back. If the courtship doesn’t work out, if they’re rejected or their chosen mate dies, dragons don’t find another mate, no matter how much time passes.

Jaskier dreads finding a mate. He can not imaging committing himself to someone in the way his parents are committed to one another: if anything, he finds it a little suffocating. He does like the easy companionship humans build however: sex is his favorite form of it, kisses being a close second, but other little non-sexual things are just as nice.

Washing Geralt’s hair, for example. It’s nice and soothing, it’s easy to get lost in the quiet that surrounds them. Geralt is never talkative and he’s even less so when bathing, but Jaskier enjoys spending time with him all the same. He knows the Witcher trusts him, he knows he wouldn’t let him get this close if he didn’t and that pleases something primal inside Jaskier, making him weirdly content.

Witchers, he’s learned, don’t trust easily. Or at least this particular one doesn’t. And yet he allows Jaskier’s touch without blinking, relaxing into it,  _ welcoming _ it most of the time. Geralt is careful about keeping his emotions from showing most of the time, but Jaskier has learned to read him, somewhat and he does think he enjoys receiving the little touches as much as Jaskier enjoys bestowing them.

But while Geralt might like him, he always needs a little coaxing when it comes to convincing him to join him anywhere.

“I'm not killing anyone. Not over the petty squabbles of men,” Geralt tells him deadly serious and Jaskier rolls his eyes. He wasn’t aware he had built up a bit of a reputation when it came to his sexual activities, at least not until he arrived into the Cintran Court to work out a few details before the actual banquet and had to leave in a bit of a rush after running into a couple of cuckolded husbands.

It’s not his fault noble ladies find him so charming. “Yes, yes, yes” he says sarcastically. “You never get involved. Except you actually do, all of the time.” He offers Geralt his most charming smile, the kind of smile that usually allows him to get into bed with all the lovely ladies and lads he sets his sights on. Geralt glares, not charmed in the least. “Ugh. Is this what happens when you get old? You get unbearably crotchety and cantankerous?” he asks, making a face, laughing inside at the face Geralt himself pulls. Age is a sore subject with the Witcher, although he doesn’t understand why: Jaskier is twice his age and he’s nowhere near  _ old.  _ “Actually, I've always wanted to know, do witchers ever retire?” he asks, curious, because as hard as he tries, he can’t imagine Geralt  _ retiring,  _ growing old and going to live in some charming cottage by the sea.

“Yeah. When they slow and get killed,” Geralt replies and Jaskier is hard pressed not to slap him. Geralt is rather terrible at this making conversation business.

“Come on, you must want something for yourself once all this... monster hunting nonsense is over with,” Jaskier insists, because now that he’s started thinking about it, he can’t stop picturing an older Geralt. There must be something he wants, Jaskier thinks. Everyone  _ wants  _ something. There must be something in this wide world that Geralt wants for himself, something that pleases him the most.

Humans don’t have hoards, but they always  _ want  _ something.

“I want nothing,” Geralt replies and isn’t that the saddest thing Jaskier has ever heard? Finding something that pleases you is such a big part of a dragon’s life that he can’t imagine someone not having that. He’s more or less familiar with the way Geralt thinks now and he knows that when he says he wants nothing, what he means is that he knows better than to want something and that-- that--

That’s just sad.

“Well, who knows?” Jaskier says, aiming for lighthearted and missing the mark entirely. “Maybe someone out there will want you,” he adds and yes, isn’t that a thought? Jaskier does want the Witcher: he’s his key, after all. So maybe, when all it’s said and done-- when his hoard has grown enough for him to be satisfied, when every person in the Continent knows his songs and of Geralt’s heroic deeds--

Geralt scoffs. “I need no one,” he deadpans, his tone firm but Jaskier hears the hurt lurking behind. “And the last thing I want is someone needing me.” He sounds so certain and that just makes it so much more heartbreaking: either the poor dear actually believes it or has made himself believe it.

Oh, his poor darling Witcher. Jaskier thinks he’d like to tear open every single person who’s made Geralt feel like he doesn’t deserve happiness. It makes him angry and frustrated, appealing to his most primal instincts: a dragon protects their hoard and their key by extension and he’ll make sure no one hurts his Witcher, never again.

In the meantime though…

He kneels by the tub, looking at Geralt directly in the eye, willing him to understand what he truly means. “And yet… here we are,” he says with conviction and Geralt stares directly at him, as if searching for a lie. Jaskier has seen Geralt use that unwavering stare in other people and it usually has them running for the hills, but Jaskier holds his gaze steadily, daring him to deny it.

“Hmm,” Geralt replies, with the smallest of smiles and Jaskier’s heart gives a little flutter at the sight. The feeling is completely new and Jaskier has no point of comparison for it, but it makes him oddly happy all the same. Before he can examine it for long though, Geralt notices his missing clothes and Jaskier smirks, standing up.

His work here is done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> I generally write more from Geralt’s POV, so this is a nice exercise. Having an oblivious Jaskier is almost as fun as having an oblivious Geralt, so I’m enjoying writing this quite a lot :P  
> Anyway, let me know what you thought?  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! I meant for this to be the last one, but it took a slightly different turn (my angsty ways won over my desire to finish it), so I had to change quite a few things, along with the tags and a few changes on the summary :P  
> Anyway, without further ado… enjoy!

Geralt is sitting by the fire, a contemplative look upon his face. It’s the middle of the night, the only light they have provided by the burning fire since the moon is nowhere to be seen. Dragon’s eyesight is notoriously good, but not so much when they’re posing as humans: in fact, posing as human has the terrible side effect of making you vulnerable to a whole lot of things that a regular dragon wouldn’t even notice, like the cold. Still, even in the low light Jaskier can make out Geralt’s silhouette and it gives him an odd sense of peace, knowing the other is so close, despite the current state of their…  _ relationship _ .

Jaskier does his best not to alert Geralt of the fact that he’s awake, not wanting to break the calm. The Witcher looks-- troubled, perhaps, a light scowl crossing his features every now and then. Jaskier itches to ask what’s wrong, but he suspects that speaking will only make the other scowl harder and he’s not in the mood to have a fight.

They’ve been arguing a lot in these past few days. It’s odd, because Jaskier is not really used to arguing: dragons don’t, generally. If there’s something bothering them, they usually have an actual fight about it, teeth and claws and wings involved. Humans prefer to engage in arguments, but normally Jaskier is always gone before any problems can arise and any arguments can be had.

He does spend a lot of time with Geralt however, so he imagines it’s just natural.

It’d be easier, he thinks, if the Witcher actually told him what’s bothering him. He snaps at Jaskier at random times, not really angry at him, but wanting to pick up a fight for some reason. Humans do that too, Jaskier has found: make a show of being angry at something, when they’re actually angry at something else entirely, often taking their anger out on someone who didn’t deserve it to begin with. Jaskier can’t figure out what might be bothering Geralt: as far as he can tell, nothing has truly changed between them.

And yet-- that’s not entirely true, is it?

Jaskier scowls, unhappy. It can’t be that, because Jaskier has been very careful about not giving his inner confusion away. He doesn’t fully understand these things he’s feeling, so he’s been happy to shove them to the back of his mind and avoid thinking about them as much as possible, but maybe--

Ever since the banquet at Cintra, Jaskier has noticed a slight shift on his feelings towards the Witcher. He was protective of him, yes, as any dragon would be of his key but now it feels-- different, somehow. He wants to keep Geralt safe and protected, yes, away from all the hurt and cruelness of the world but it feels…  _ personal,  _ somehow. It’s not about defending what’s his, it’s about--

Well. That’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?

Dragons care for their hoards, but having a hoard is fundamentally a selfish act. It’s not about the hoard itself, but about how it makes its owner feel. It’s about the pleasure it causes the dragon, not the other way around.

Normally this isn’t particularly important, hoards being mostly not sentient, objects for the most part. Geralt however is human, with his own needs and desires and Jaskier wants-- he wants--

He wants to  _ please  _ Geralt. He wants to be the one thing that pleases the Witcher the most in the whole wide world.

And that’s a different matter altogether. That sounds closer to a mate than to a key, although Jaskier kind of hopes he’s just confused. After all, his experience with mates consists of watching his parents growing up and considering neither of their hoards had needed a key, maybe Jaskier just got the feelings a bit mixed up. Jaskier is fairly certain Geralt is his key, but other than that…

Well. He just doesn’t know.

Here’s the thing: mates and hoards might be one and the same, but it’s extremely rare and  _ terribly  _ unwise. Having a sentient hoard is generally discouraged: it’s hard to look after someone who has their own thoughts and feelings, someone who might not want to be looked after at all. But having a hoard that’s also a mate… that’s the worst idea ever.

Mates are found in the same way hoards are, but unlike hoards, they can’t be taken by force. A mate is not to be coerced or seduced: a mate must chose you back, provided you are found worthy. A dragon only loves once and if their chosen one does not return the sentiment, they mourn, but they take solace in their hoard: that’s why rejected dragons usually have the most wonderful hoards. But if the would-be-mate also happens to be your hoard…

Jaskier is not sure what could happen. A dragon can die of heartbreak, but it’s a slow and painful process.

Jaskier shudders, the thought making his skin itch. If Geralt is his key and if Jaskier also happens to actually be in love with him-- what will happen if Geralt rejects him? He does not want to know and so it’s better if he doesn’t think too much about it. In any case, maybe he’s truly just confused and he’ll figure things out given enough time.

And anyway, can dragons have not-dragon mates? Jaskier does not know, he doesn’t know enough dragons to have a real answer, although he imagines such case would have inspired a few legends: it’d be beautifully tragic, wouldn’t it? A doomed love between a dragon and a human? Humans lives are, after all, short and fragile, so the story could be nothing but a tragedy. In this particular case of course, Geralt is a Witcher, so he’ll live longer than a regular human and he’s far from fragile, although he does take a lot of unnecessary risks and sometimes Jaskier just wants to pull him away from the danger and hide him away from the world, although he suspects that wouldn’t make Geralt very happy and that’s the opposite of what Jaskier wants because what Jaskier truly wants is for Geralt to be as happy as he can be.

Is that love? Wanting the other person to be happy, whatever that may mean, regardless of your own misgivings?

Jaskier isn’t sure.

_ It doesn’t matter,  _ he tells himself sternly. It’s very evident Geral would not welcome the emotion. He refuses to call Jaskier his friend, he’s even more unlikely to want to be Jaskier’s mate. And if Jaskier decided to initiate a proper courtship, he’d would need to disclose his true nature, so Geralt would understand what he’d be accepting (in the impossible case that he accepted). Jaskier doesn’t feel ready for any of that.

In any case, dragons live many centuries and, as he understands it, unless some monster kills him, Geralt will live many centuries too. So it’s not like they’re in a hurry, although, as with a hoard, the longer you can have your mate, the better.

But he does have Geralt, doesn’t he? Not in the manner humans are so obsessed with having one another, but the Witcher is  _ his.  _ Jaskier is often asked about  _ his  _ Witcher just as Geralt is often asked about  _ his  _ bard and that must count for something, right?

Jaskier had asked his father once, when he was but a couple of decades old, why he had chosen his mother. His father had said that it hadn’t been a choice at all: he had seen her and  _ known it.  _ Much like finding his hoard, it wasn’t something that could be explained, it could only be felt.

It wasn’t a terribly enlightening answer then and it’s very useless now. Jaskier had seen Geralt and known he was important, but for the last decade or so he was convinced it was a matter of the Witcher being his key. Now however--

He looks at Geralt, who’s scowling at the fire once more and he frowns. Courtship as a general rule is not an easy feat: proving you’re capable of providing your mate is not meant to be easy. Dragons, once they’ve reached maturity, don’t need anyone looking after them, but they usually take it in a stride when someone tries, because they understand their courtship rules. Geralt doesn’t need anyone looking after him, what’s more he doesn’t  _ want  _ anyone looking after him, convinced he does not get to have that. If Jaskier tried--

Geralt wouldn’t understand. And knowing him, he’s much more likely to push him away.

_ I need no one. And the last thing I want is someone needing me. _ No, Geralt wouldn’t understand and he wouldn’t welcome it. He struggles with Jaskier giving him the slightest scraps of affection, he would bolt like a panicked animal if Jaskier tried something more. 

Besides, Jaskier needs to be sure. Geralt might not understand dragons’ courtship rules, not even if Jaskier explained them, so he might not try to tear Jaskier a new one for  _ leading him on  _ if it turned out he’s not in love as he thought, but he’d be hurt and that’s the last thing Jaskier wants.

He sighs. This  _ romance  _ business is hard. If only he could approach this as he’s approached all his previous infatuations and try to get Geralt in bed, but of course that’d be too easy. No, you don’t deceive a prospective mate, you don’t make promises you’re not intending to keep (or that you don’t know if you’ll be able to keep). So he’ll have to continue mulling it over, until he has a definitive answer.

But as he said, it’s not like they’re in a hurry.

Time is no concern.

* * *

“You should leave,” Geralt tells him the next morning, with no preamble. Jaskier blinks, still half asleep, not at all certain this isn’t just a bad dream. “It’s best if we don’t-- if we take some time apart.”

Jaskier’s heart stops abruptly in his chest. They’ve parted ways before, of course and Geralt is constantly telling him to leave, but Jaskier knows he never means it. “Geralt--”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” his companion insists. “I need some time apart.”

“Why?” Jaskier asks, feeling vulnerable. He does not wish to leave, but he will if that’s what Geralt needs.

Geralt sighs. “I… I need time. There is… I’m not used to this,” he shakes his head, frustrated. “It’s not your fault,” he hurries to reassure him, no doubt noticing Jaskier’s fallen expression. “What I feel-- I just need to sort it out.”

_ What he feels?  _ What is that supposed to mean? Can it be that Geralt is as confused as himself by whatever is growing between them? Is that it?

“Alright,” Jaskier murmurs softly, because some distance would probably help him too. After all, he also has some feelings to sort through, although he somehow doubts he actually will: they’re not far from Stael and, as he recalls, there’s a lovely Countess there he wouldn’t mind visiting.

He starts packing and realizes Geralt has already packed his own stuff. Jaskier ignores the bitter taste left in the back of his mouth and focuses on his task, making sure he won’t forget anything.

Geralt lingers for a couple of minutes, before taking Roach’s reins and starts to guide her away. He doesn’t say another word, although Jaskier can feel him staring at his back but he does not turn.

_ It’s just for a little while _ , Jaskier tells himself. They’ll be traveling together again in no time.

It’ll be fine.

* * *

Jaskier places his fingers over his throat, squeezing a little, testing it. It hurts a little and he can still taste blood in the back of his mouth, but he doesn’t feel like he’s dying anymore and that must count for something.

_ Too much for a reunion,  _ he thinks bitterly. He hadn’t thought he’d be meeting Geralt again so soon but that does not mean he hadn’t been happy about it. Of course the Witcher’s foul mood had been a bit annoying, but he had been willing not to make too much of a fuss. Except of course Geralt had decided to comment on his singing, which,  _ rude  _ and having been a little drunk and in a bit of a mood himself, Jaskier might have acted a bit recklessly.

For a minute there, he had been half tempted to turn into his dragon form, knowing the Djinn’s spell would likely be rendered ineffective in such form, but that would have meant revealing something he’s not sure he wants to, especially not now with things so…  _ fragile  _ between them. A part of him fears Geralt’s reaction: he won’t be pleased at the deception, Jaskier thinks and while he very seriously doubts Geralt would try to hurt him, it doesn’t mean he  _ wouldn’t.  _

His father was right when he told him he understood so little about  _ hurt.  _ Indeed, a sword through the gut seems a little less painful than Geralt turning his back on him, asking him to  _ leave,  _ this time for real.

So no, Jaskier had stayed in human glamour and endured the pain.

It’s a little bit ironic, Jaskier thinks, what happened afterwards. He stayed in human form so he wouldn’t alert Geralt of his true nature and so preventing being rejected by the Witcher and in doing so, he had put his friend in the path of that  _ witch.  _ Oh, Jaskier is self aware enough to notice that his dislike of the woman is unfounded: she did save his life after all and she might have been scary as fuck, but that’s hardly reason enough for the absolute hatred she has inspired in him. Still--

Dragons are possessive by nature and while some might not mind sort of sharing their hoard,  _ sharing  _ is a conscious decision. Meaning they don’t appreciate people trying to steal what they consider theirs, no matter what.

And the witch had tried to steal his key.

She might have even succeeded, if Geralt’s far away expression is anything to go by. He was obviously enchanted by the woman and Jaskier can’t blame him: why, if he wasn’t so busy disliking her, he might even admit having been a little charmed himself. Yennefer was beautiful, yes, but there was more to her: the air of power she exuded had been appealing, the magic crackling around her like a siren’s call, both irresistible and deadly. Jaskier understands the appeal, he really does, but  _ Geralt is his  _ and no witch is stealing him away.

But--

That’s the problem with sentient hoards, of course. They have their own wishes and needs and in the case of humans, their own  _ feelings.  _ Jaskier can’t force Geralt to stay with him if he does not wish it, but--

He closes his eyes, willing himself to relax, all too aware of the tension he’s carrying. It won’t do to worry too much: after all Geralt is still traveling with him and they’ve left the witch behind, although Jaskier suspects she’ll never be far away from Geralt’s thoughts now.

_ It doesn't matter,  _ Jaskier tells himself. Geralt will continue traveling the Path and he’ll continue being heroic and song-worthy and so Jaskier’s hoard will continue growing. Even if the Witcher is indeed in love with the damned witch--

It changes nothing so it matters not.

And yet--

* * *

“You can’t be serious,” Jaskier whines, well aware that his companion will find it annoying, but incapable of holding himself back. It’s been a damn week since they left Rinde and Geralt still has that lovesick look on him and it’s driving Jaskier mad. “You knew her for a full day!” he continues, undeterred by Geralt’s dark glare. “Half of which you were literally under her spell. What the bloody hell, Geralt?!”

Geralt grunts, turning away. It hurts, but Jaskier refuses to linger on the feeling. “I mean, honestly Geralt. You’re always criticizing my flickering affections and you--”

“It’s not like that,” the Witcher interrupts, continuing down the path, still not looking at Jaskier. “Yennefer isn’t-- it’s not about her.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” Jaskier continues to prod, ignoring the  _ leave me alone  _ vibes Geralt is exuding. “Then how is it, Geralt? Because to me, you certainly look--”

“I don’t know!” Geralt snaps, finally turning to face him. “I don’t know, Jaskier, damn it! It’s been a while since I allowed anyone this close, so excuse me if I’m a little slow sorting out what the hell all this means!” he growls, looking away, seemingly annoyed at himself. Jaskier has no doubt he’s said more than he meant to, although it doesn’t shed that much light.

“Alright,” he whispers, conceding defeat. Jaskier hasn’t sorted through his own feelings either, happy to continue ignoring them and he rather thinks Geralt should do the same, but to each their own, he supposes. If Geralt wants to figure out what he feels for the witch (who he knew for less than a day, mind), then that’s his prerogative.

Geralt watches him in silence for a beat and then nods, turning sharply away and continuing his way along the path.

Jealousy, Jaskier thinks, it’s not a nice feeling.

But it’s very telling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> As I said, my need for some serious pining won out my wish to keep this short-ish and sweet. Well… nothing to do about it, I suppose :P  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! I’m so terribly sorry about the late update, but last year sucked (I’m sure many of you agree) and I had a hard time trying to find the will to write. I actually hadn’t realized how much of a toll the pandemic was taking on my mental health until I realized it had been almost six months since I opened any of my WIPs and I hadn’t even noticed. I love writing and yet I didn’t even notice I wasn’t writing :(  
> But anyway, I’m back and it’s high time we finish this tale! Hope you’ll enjoy it!

Jaskier stares, fascinated. In his shortish life (for a dragon anyway), he’s witnessed many amazing sights, but none of them compare to the one he’s currently watching. His chest feels tight and he realizes he’s been holding his breath, afraid to make any noise and break the spell, but he finds he can’t keep holding it, least he faints.

He lets out his breath slowly, trying to go as unnoticed as possible. To his luck, Geralt really doesn’t seem to notice and continues laughing merrily, head thrown back, his whole body shaking.

_ I love him,  _ Jaskier thinks to himself and it doesn’t feel like the revelation it is. He supposes it’s because at some level he’s always known, deep down he’s always known he’s madly in love with his human friend.

But watching Geralt laugh, looking honestly happy and relaxed, he realizes something else. He had heard tales before, of course and he had even thought he knew what the elders meant about the sheer  _ joy  _ that can be found in a hoard, but he  _ didn’t.  _ Until this very instant, he didn’t understand the pleasure a Hoard brings, because he had yet to figure out his real hoard.

But now, watching his companion, who’s no longer laughing, but whose smile still lingers, he finally understands what’s the thing that pleases him the most in the whole wide world, the thing that he’ll crave forever more and that he’ll never have enough. Something especial, something rarer and more valuable than the most precious metals or the loveliest gems:

His Witcher’s smiles.

Tricky, that. Dangerous too, probably. Unwise to have your source of peace be your love too, but it can’t be helped. Dragons don’t choose their hoards, they simply guard them.

And Jaskier will be damned before allowing any harm to befall upon his key/hoard/love. He returns Geralt’s smile, silently vowing to keep him safe, no matter what.

Not an easy vow to fulfill. But it’s not like he has any other choice.

* * *

“We shouldn’t go,” Jaskier says as he watches Geralt get ready for bed. He’s been on edge all day: no dragon wants another one sniffing anywhere near close to their hoard (mates and cubs excepted) and a gold dragon at that…

He’s heard the stories. They might be exaggerations and gold dragons might not be as bad as the tales make them seem, but he’s not taking any risks when it comes to his hoard and would-be mate.

Geralt ignores him, continuing to take off his armour slowly and methodically. Jaskier shakes his head, telling himself now is not the time to get distracted by his silly hormones and he steps in front of the Witcher, halting his hands that were busy undoing buckles. “You’re not listening,” he accuses and Geralt huffs, a small smile on his lips.

It’s funny, Jaskier thinks, he knows that a hoard will never be complete enough, but it still takes him by surprise how much it pleases him to get another smile for his hoard. “I heard you the first ten times,” Geralt says gently. “I know you think Yenn’s presence is a bad omen but--”

“It’s not-- it’s not just the witch,” Jaskier sulks, although he admits that’s part of it. A dragon does not share and he doesn’t like the witch taking Geralt’s attention away from him. He likes it even less when Geralt happens to  _ disappear  _ with her: Jaskier is not naive and he’s well aware of what they do during those  _ disappearance  _ and dragons might not concern themselves overly much with sexual fidelity, but Jaskier  _ wants  _ Geralt’s heart and he might have yet to make a move, but--

Well. He doesn’t like her and that’s the important bit.

“Then what?” Geralt says, continuing to undress and Jaskier glares. He must know, he thinks: anyone with eyes must be able to see just how desperately Jaskier  _ wants. _

“You can’t trust gold dragons,” he says without thinking. “They’s treacherous, scheming and good for nothing oversized lizards,” he continues, reciting the words he’s heard his whole life even if he’s never fully believed them. “Nothing good will come from associating with them.”

Jaskier is glaring at the wall, thinking of Borch’s words and his supposed mission and so it takes him a while to realize how eerly quiet the room has gone. When he does, he realizes not only the silence but just what exactly he has said.

_ Fuck. _

“What are you talking about?” Geralt asks, tone calm although it’s clear his mind is in 

overdrive. Jaskier bites his lip, wondering if he can play dumb, but he quickly realizes he really can’t. Anything he does or says will look suspicious and so his only hope is to come clean and pray Geralt isn’t too mad.

“Borch,” he says, taking a few steps back towards the door. He still doesn’t think Geralt would ever hurt him, but-- “He’s a gold dragon.”

Geralt’s eyes narrow. “And you’d know this-- how?”

_ Too late to back up now,  _ Jaskier thinks, gulping.

And so he tells Geralt the truth.

* * *

All in all, Jaskier thinks the confession went rather well.

Of course he left a few things out, like the nature of his hoard, but he told Geralt most of the truth and he seems to be taking it well, all things considered. 

“How old are you?” Geralt asks, watching him closely, evidently still processing Jaskier’s confession.

“Two hundred and sixty-six,” Jaskier replies with a shrug. “A cub by age, mostly.” But not by dragon’s laws. A dragon with a hoard is a fully grown dragon, but saying as much would raise other questions.

“A cub,” Geralt repeats with a snort. “You’re older than me.”

Jaskier shrugs. “What’s a century or two?” he asks with a winning smile.

“I don’t... I mean... dragons are... and you are…” the Witcher shakes his head, frowning. “You’ve never needed my protection.”

“Well, no,” Jaskier replies with a shrug, uncertain of what to make of Geralt’s expression. “I appreciate it though.”

Geralt shakes his head. “What are you doing with me? I mean-- I’m a Witcher.”

“And you don’t normally go dragon-hunting,” Jaskier replies with a shrug. “I would have needed to intervene before if you did, although I probably wouldn’t have eaten you.” Geralt stares and Jaskier smiles innocently until the Witcher snorts. “And also… I don’t know how many times I’ll need to tell you this, but you’re my friend Geralt. Friends enjoy spending time together.”

There’s more than that, of course, but he doesn’t think he can confess that much just yet.

Geralt hums, a thoughtful expression on his face. He doesn’t look exactly convinced, but Jaskier figures there’s not much point in repeating himself. He knows Geralt has trouble believing someone actually wants to be with him so there’s little use in arguing.

“He needs my help,” Geralt says after a beat. “Borch, I mean.”

Jaskier sighs. “He lied to you.”

“So did you,” the Witcher replies and Jaskier tries not to flinch. “I understand why you’d hide your true nature and I think we both can understand why Borch would lie. Does he know you’re a dragon too?”

“He must,” Jaskier says. “But he must have realized you didn’t know and… yes, it’s not very wise to trust those who could actually kill you.”

“You trust me, don’t you?” Geralt asks, watching him closely. “Friends trust each other.”

Jaskier snorts.  _ Now  _ he is calling them friends. “They do. And I do trust you Geralt, it’s just-- well. I wasn’t sure how you’d react and it didn’t seem that important.”

“It’s not, I suppose,” Geralt says, still watching him, an amused glint in his eye. “You’re still a troublesome bard.”

Jaskier laughs, tension escaping his body as he does. He knew he could trust Geralt but to hear him say he doesn’t care he’s actually a dragon… it eases something inside him.

It’ll be fine, he dares to think.

It’ll be fine.

* * *

“I know not all dragons hoard treasures,” Geralt says, after Jaskier has suggested they retire somewhere. He knows it’s a ridiculous thought: both he and Geralt have many years ahead from them, but wouldn’t it be nice?

A house by the coast, with his key/hoard/love all for himself. What else could a dragon want?

“Indeed,” Jaskier agrees, frowning, confused by the turn the conversation has taken.

“What’s your hoard?” Geralt asks bluntly, turning to fully face him, the intensity of his stare demanding Jaskier meets his eyes despite the sudden fear gripping his heart. “It’s not gold or anything material; you always travel light. So it must be… something else.”

Jaskier could lie. He could say it’s his songs, which could be a small lie considering he had once really thought so, but--

A dragon never lies to their mate. “You,” he answers simply. He ought to explain, he thinks, he ought to say more because Geralt can not possibly understand but--

Geralt nods, looking away. He doesn’t seem-- unhappy, but he doesn’t seem pleased either. As with most things, he keeps his face mostly devoid of emotions, except this time Jaskier really can’t read him.

“I expect nothing,” Jaskier hurries to assure him, because the idea of losing Geralt now is too much to bear. “I know you and Yennefer… well. I expect nothing.”

Geralt frowns, considering. “Dragons are monogamous.”

“Not in the way humans think of monogamy,” Jaskier replies cautiously. “Sexual fidelity means little to us.”

“But they love once,” Geralt says, staring at the sunset. “Even if their beloved dies, they find no one else.”

Jaskier nods, dread filling his every pore. “I expect nothing,” he repeats even if deep down he knows that’s not entirely true. Still, better something than nothing and so--

“I’m not in love with Yennefer,” Geralt says finally, standing up. “That’s all I know for sure,” he adds, still not looking at Jaskier. “Get some sleep,” he orders after a beat. “We have a long day ahead from us tomorrow.”

Jaskier nods, biting his lip. It’s a better answer than he expected to be honest, but he’s not sure what to make of it. 

_ He knows now,  _ he thinks.

And that must count for something, surely.

* * *

Jaskier stares at the now empty den, at the place where nothing but bones are left from owner. Death is inevitable, he knows, dragons might live long lives, but they’re not inmortal and yet--

He’s young, but he’s a full grown dragon by their laws. He has found a hoard that pleases him and a mate that might or might not love him, but that evidently cares for him and so he can not say his life has been wasted but looking at the death dragon he can’t help but  _ long  _ for what he does not have.

“I need to go to Cintra,” Geralt says, coming to stand behind him. “I need to go pick my child of surprise.”

“Of course,” Jaskier replies. He wants to ask what happened with Yennefer; he saw them talking quietly the previous evening and this morning they seemed to be on good terms. They were discussing something when Jaskier arrived earlier and Yennefer had hugged Geralt before leaving, whispering something against his ear, but Jaskier had tried not to pry and so he had left to visit the dragon’s den instead.

“I don’t think I can retire,” Geralt continues, when Jaskier doesn’t turn to face him. “Not now anyway. There’s something big coming, I can feel it, but maybe-- well, what’s a century or two for a dragon?”

Jaskier turns then, something like hope making his head spin. “You mean--”

Geralt pulls him close, his bigger frame surrounding Jaskier almost completely and Jaskier almost purrs, contented. Geralt’s arms feel like home and he doesn’t think he’s ever been happier.

He looks up, to find Geralt watching him with a small smile on his face, the small secret one he seems to only ever bestow Jaskier.

Jaskier grins, pleased beyond words.  _ My hoard,  _ he thinks, holding Geralt tighter.  _ Mine to love and mine to protect. _

What else could a dragon want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it 's finished!  
> I struggled like crazy with this last chapter; I always meant for Jaskier to figure out his true hoard was Geralt’s happiness (because I’m sappy like that), but it got a bit more complicated than I intended and well… I struggled.  
> As for the last part, let’s pretend Geralt never left to spend the night with Yennefer during the dragon hunt, that he told her the truth about the djinn’s wish instead and so by the end they talked like adults and figured out something :P  
> Anyway, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it and that it wasn’t terribly disappointing. Again, I’m terribly sorry about the late update! A million thanks to the lovely Prim_the_Amazing who won this work as part of the Fandom Trumps Hate’s last year auction and to everyone who read, left kudos and/or commented!

**Author's Note:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought! ;)  
> Also, english is not my native language, so any mistakes you find, feel free to point them out!  
> You can also find me in [tumblr](http://ylc1.tumblr.com/)


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